


Give Us A Kiss

by paulmcfartney



Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles
Genre: M/M, McLennon, The One Where I Cut It Off Because I'm A Whimp, teddy boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 08:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13337487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulmcfartney/pseuds/paulmcfartney
Summary: John attempts to make Paul dinner while his Aunt Mimi visits relatives.





	Give Us A Kiss

When Mimi handed John the fifty pounds note, she questioned herself, 'Do I really trust him to buy some sort of food with this?' She loved the boy with all of her heart, but she couldn't bring herself to fully believe that he was actually going to spend this money responsibly and not just for more cigarettes. She'd made herself crystal clear, among John's protests that he knew and understood her instructions. The car pulled away and whisked the woman off to Scotland to visit her dear sister for the next week. She was just glad that she'd been able to get a short break from her nephew's antics for a few days.

John went back inside the house, contemplating his next move. He had to go out and buy groceries for the house, but he needed to think up a list. Why Mimi would leave this job to him was unknown, but dammit, was he going to take advantage of it. This was his first real glimpse into what being a full-fledged adult was going to be like. And he was fully prepared to spoil his boyfriend rotten. He thought for a moment about what meals he could make, and eventually concluded that they'd all end up a disaster. Pasta and tomato sauce had soon been decided as the simplest option, and before doing anything, he made sure that Mimi had all of the pots and gadgets necessary for the daunting task he'd convinced himself was absolutely doable.

A bright smile was upon John's face as he rang Paul to let him know to come to his house with an empty stomach at seven o'clock sharp. The boy on the other line sounded surprised after hearing that Mimi was out for the week. "I didn't know you could cook!" Paul exclaimed excitedly, which made John chuckle. "I can't." He could almost picture Paul on the other end, sitting on the red armchair in the front room of his home, trying desperately to conceal the heavy blush that was spreading on either side of his boyish face. Mr. McCartney didn't fully appreciate his eldest son's relationship with this Lennon boy, and when Paul told him he was going off to John's for dinner, he was less than thrilled, but didn't tell him no.

When John set out for the market, he had an idea of what he had to buy. For dinner, he needed pasta, tomato sauce, and maybe he could even snag a bottle of wine if the grocery sold it. Other things on his list included eggs, milk, bread, apples, cheese, biscuits, coffee, butter, and a pack of beer that he was sure he could hide from Mimi. It took him almost two hours to pick up the groceries and make his way home. Thankfully, the market did have the red wine he was looking for, Paul's favorite, which was the kind they'd occasionally nick from his dad's cupboard when he would sleep over. By the time he got home, it was almost six o'clock and he found himself scrambling around Mendips, trying to get everything in place before Paul was to arrive.

Whilst digging through drawers the and cupboards for a pot, John had found his Uncle George's old apron, the one he used to wear whenever he would, on occasion, cook for Mimi and John. He ran his thumb over the embroidered words 'Kiss the Cook!' towards the center of the apron before slipping it on hastily, thinking to himself 'Paul's gonna love this.' He found two pots to use, one for the pasta and one for the sauce, and filled one with water. Soon, the pasta was cooking and the sauce was heating on the stove.

It was almost time for his boyfriend to arrive and John quickly went over a checklist in his mind to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. He'd lit a single candle on the dining table, knowing that Paul would definitely be amused by his attentiveness to all the little details. Paul had always enjoyed little frilly things, small romantic gestures; they'd always meant a lot to him, and John Lennon made sure that he would not disappoint.

Paul knocked on the front door, giddy as ever. He was excited to see what John had planned for the night, given that his Aunt Mimi was out of town. And when his usually tough, rugged-looking boyfriend opened the front door, clad in a black sweater and a bright red apron that read 'Kiss the Cook!' he tried desperately to suppress a slight giggle. "Someone really seems to be embracing this cooking thing," Paul smiled. John shut the door behind him and dusted off his apron. "Don't make me spit in your food, mate, cos I won't have a problem doing it," John chuckled and pulled Paul into the kitchen.

"What's for dinner?" the doe-eyed boy asked before noticing the boiling pasta and sauce on the stove. John pushed himself up to sit on the counter. "Well, after having a thorough look through my great library of recipe books, and considering my extensive training with some of the world's finest chefs, it was no question that I must go with something extraordinary," he replied in a posh accent and pretended to twiddle with a fake mustache. Paul giggled and wove himself in between John's legs, wrapping his arms around the man's neck above him. "Mm, and what would that be, love?" he mumbled against his lips, grazing them against his own. "Pasta," John whispered in the boy's ear before nibbling lightly on the bit of skin, Paul letting out a weak whimper in return. As he worked his way down Paul's neck, a hand slid itself to tangle into John's hair, pulling him as close as he could, making him moan into his jaw. Their lips soon found each other's and were immediately locked in a passionate kiss, tongues swirling and teeth nibbling, taking all that the other would offer. Paul could feel John's legs tighten around him, and he didn't protest whenever he felt the boy begin to slightly grind against him.

The sudden ring of the timer going off made the two boys jump, and John scrambled to hop down from the counter and turn off the gas. Paul, still dazed from John's lips, ran a careful hand through his mop of greased hair, trying not to mess it up any more than it already was. Even though they'd been together for almost four months now, their kisses never ceased to make each other breathless and leave the other invariably wanting more. When he saw John struggling to carry the pot over to the strainer in the sink, his heart swelled, thinking 'He's doing all this work just for me.' He helped him with the pot, despite his boyfriend's protests, and finally agreed to go and sit at the table while he finished up their meals. The boy sat down, and had to smile at John's efforts, even with the candle he had set in between their two places at the table.

After a few minutes, John appeared in the doorway of the dining room, holding two plates, each with its own massive mountain of spaghetti and tomato sauce. He set them down, and was about to sit down himself before he ran back into the kitchen, grumbling "fuckin' pasta..." until he became inaudible. He returned bearing two glasses and a bottle of his and Paul's favorite wine, Pinot Noir. "Jesus mate, you've outdone yourself this time," Paul commented with wonder as John slipped off his uncle's apron and threw it over another chair. He pulled the cork out of the bottle with a pop and poured the dark, red wine generously into the two glasses. "Nothin' but the best for you, love," John chortled and finally sat down across from the beautiful boy.

The glow of the candlelight illuminated Paul's gorgeous features, and John couldn't help but sneak short little glances at him as they ate. God, was he beautiful, eyebrows arched and lashes naturally curled, perfectly framing those dark, wide eyes that he often lost himself in. When he would catch John staring, Paul's plump cheeks would inevitably turn a fiery red and he'd always tug his full lower lip in between his teeth. That little strand of hair that hung loose from his tall quiff would swing back and forth as he ate.

Thankfully, the food had turned out alright, and afterwards they sat, plates cleared. They'd drank through nearly the entire bottle of wine, and it left them slightly tipsy as they smoked. Paul had caught John's eyes on him once again and put out his cigarette before standing up and walking around the table towards him. The younger boy sat down across John's lap and wrapped two warm arms around his neck like before. He took the cigarette out from in between John's thin lips and took a drag of it himself before stubbing it out on the ashtray on the table. "Can I kiss the cook again, Johnny?"

The older boy froze up in his seat, a shiver running through his body and down his spine at the sultry words that were leaving his boyfriend's lips. Another wave of excitement seemed to come over him as Paul nuzzled his neck and began to place feather light kisses up and along his jawline. John felt the growing bulge in his jeans and bucked his hips up into Paul's thigh, praying that he would get the message. He got the message crystal clear, thank God, and lifted himself off of John only to grab his hand and pull him upstairs.

All coherent thought was gone and thrown out the window when their lips met, John pushing Paul up against his closed bedroom door and grinding their hips together shamelessly. The older man found Paul's hands, pulling them above him and holding them tightly against the door as their mouths melded over and over again. They'd had sex several times before, but Paul would never grow tired of the feeling of John pressed up hotly against him.

"Paulie," John moaned against his lips. Among their heavy breathing, the younger managed to get out a raspy "yeah," in response. John's grip on the boy's wrists tightened as his lips traveled downwards to nip at his Adam's apple. "Wanna feel you," he groaned against his neck wantonly. Paul lifted his head up to give him more room to work at his already sensitive neck and his breathing increased. "Fuck me," he whimpered out, growing increasingly impatient with every move John would make.

For the second time that night, John definitely did not disappoint.


End file.
